A single River Stone

A single river stone is

Just a rock,

That's heaven sent.

Rolling toward the sea

All its time is spent

Touching other stones.

To soft matte polishes all

Rough surfaces now made smooth.

The stone acquires age

And captures a little girl's attention.

"See that pretty rock, Grandpa."

Even a weathered eye cannot miss

The beauty of its sheen.

Time and miles

Have left their mark,

Changing just a rock

Into a precious stone.

When at last it laid

Its beauty in my palm

I held my breath

In sheer delight,

And bathed within its calm.

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